


Livin’ La Vida Loca

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: AU, Drug Use, Druggie Klaus, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Pre-S1, Unreliable Narrator, dead ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28351437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: They said he was mentally unstable and it’s not far from the truth. It wasn’t like it was his fault though.Klaus is just a product of his up bringing.——Or Klaus was made to believe he was crazy instead of having powers and as the saying goes ‘if you tell yourself something long enough it’s bound to come true.’
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Livin’ La Vida Loca

**Author's Note:**

> This hasn’t been typo checked! Just an Idea/Au I’ve been thinking about.

Klaus turned the knob on the sink. Nothing came out but a single drop which he hungrily licked up. It did little to put out the fire on his tongue or stop his head from spinning. "Motherfucker," he hissed out, slamming his hands against the edge of the sink before digging his nails against the porcelain to steady himself. "Why is the water turned off?" He groans to the thin air and receives nothing but a lowly static buzz.

Of course, no one replied to him. Klaus has been alone, always is alone, and would never be anything but alone. His head swims, his thoughts wander, and all it does is reinforce what he already knows.

He's in deep, deeper than normal people can handle, and it's finally coming to get him. He can't even remember the last thing he took in his body.

"You aren't looking too good," no one says to him because he is alone. Nobody would say this even if they could say this because nobody is here. "Klaus...maybe you should sit down." 

One deep breath then another before finally his vision stops blurring and he can see himself in the mirror. Rough would be one way to describe him but at this point, he doesn't care and he's so busy not caring that he can't bring himself to wonder when he stopped caring.

When did it all come crumbling down?

"Klaus-" nobody says to him because the bathroom is empty. Nobody else is here so he walks out of it, through a space that's noticeably thicker than the rest but empty. "Klaus," nobody says again like a faint echo that is caused by the quietness of mountains or small animals running around in the dark.

Nobody is here with him.

He takes a handful of steps before falling face-first onto a grey couch stained with red at weird angles. He doesn't even move his face away from a handprint smelling of metal and gun powder. It doesn't bother him and because it doesn't bother him he inhales one big breath and closes his eyes.

He doesn't so much as find sleep as it finds him. It's been waiting for him, it's been hunting him, and finally, all at once, he is its prey being devoured. If he's honest with himself, which he rarely is, it feels good to be devoured by this beast known as sleep.

...

He sleeps alone and wakes alone. He gets dressed alone and eats stale bread alone and walks out the door alone. He travels alone to the nearby convenience store and when he steals a bottle of water he's all alone.

He drinks the water on the way back to his place and he feels slightly better. Less light-headed in the least.

Alone he is.

Alone he will be.

And then suddenly he wasn't alone.

A young lady stumbles into him, he can't see her face. He didn't even notice her before then, hadn't even cared to look at her as she came to pass him, but now she is leaning against him, panting, eyes closed. He can almost feel the sweat pouring off of her.

She is sick.

Then her head rolls to the side and she begins to slide lifelessly off his body. Her face finally becomes visible and it's familiar. "Klaus," she whispers to him as he catches her limp body.

"Vanya?" He brings her body in closer, keeping her head away from the pavement.

She is hot. Hot and sweaty and practically melting in his arms. How long has she been sick? What can he do to help? 

He doesn't know and because he doesn't know he does the only thing he can do. He picks her up and found the task easier than expected.

She weighed next to nothing.

Nothing at all.

He carries her to the nearest hospital.

They don't hesitate to take her and he slips out before they force him to talk to them. He isn't meant to be with others. He's meant to be alone.

So he goes home to be alone.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?? Maybe.
> 
> I’ve been busy so I haven’t been able to write anything in ages. I hope it’s not terrible <3


End file.
